


The World is Coming Down on Me

by havvkeyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels are Dicks, Destiel (eventually), F/M, Family Secrets, Growing Up, Guardian Angels, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havvkeyes/pseuds/havvkeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU inspired by <a href="http://winnnchester.tumblr.com/post/58345848911/rawr-says-taco-before-i-take-a-misha">this</a> Tumblr post.</p><p>Mary Winchester manages to survive that fateful November night.  John, however, is not so lucky. Mary tries to keep her boys sheltered from hunting and the world that killed their father, but a certain Angel keeps warning against it. And the truth is awfully hard to conceal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Road So Far

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a post about this on tumblr and couldn't keep myself from writing a story.

**November 2, 1983**

“Come on, let’s say goodnight to your brother,” Mary said softly as she placed Dean on the ground. She smiled as Dean scampered over to Sam’s crib and leaned over the wooden railing to press a kiss to his little brother’s forehead.

“Night Sam!” Dean giggled. Mary leaned over the railing and pushed the sandy colored hair away from Sam’s face.

“Goodnight love,” she whispered. She smiled and kissed him as he reached his little hands up towards her.

“Hey Dean.” John was standing in the doorway of Sam’s room grinning at the two of them. His grin got even bigger as Dean ran over to him.

“Daddy!”

“Hey buddy!” John greeted him as he picked the little boy up. “So whaddya think? Sammy ready to toss around a football yet?”

“No Daddy!” Dean laughed.

“No!” John agreed with him, grinning even more and rolling his eyes jokingly.

“You got him?” Mary asked, putting a hand on Dean’s back.

“I got him,” John confirmed. Mary smiled and walked out of the room. Dean collapsed against his father’s shoulder, hugging him tightly. “Sweet dreams Sam.” Sam rolled over in his crib to look at the two of them. John let out a contented sigh before turning off the lights and carrying Dean out of the room. After telling Dean a bedtime story, John shut the door to his room quietly. The lights in the hallway flickered and John stopped to rap his knuckles lightly against one of them. When the light came back on and stayed on, he was satisfied enough to move on. He walked slowly to his and Mary’s bedroom, careful not to be too loud to wake anyone up.

He slipped into bed alongside his wife and put an arm around her. He slowed his breathing and closed his eyes, finally relaxing. The baby monitored rang out loudly with Sam’s wails. John bolted up, rubbing his eyes.

“John?” Mary asked groggily.

“I’ll get him,” he told her. “You go back to sleep.” Mary mumbled some sort of thanks before turning back over and wrapping the sheets tightly around her. The corner of John’s mouth pulled up slightly in half a smile as he slipped out of their room. He could hear Sam clearly now, something had really made him unhappy. Dreading the thought of having to change another dirty diaper, John slowly walked into his youngest son’s room.

His heart stopped when he saw the other figure in the room, standing over Sam’s crib. John’s muscles tensed as he moved to attack the intruder but he found himself being flung up against the wall. “Now now, Mr. Winchester. Can’t have you waking your wife and other kid now can we?” The figure’s voice scolded him. John yelled as loudly as he could for Mary to take Dean and run. He prayed to the God that he had never believed in that she had heard him. He attempted to yell again but this time, an invisible force clamped over his mouth and for the first time, the figure turned around. “Funny thing is, I told your wife about today, I warned her all those years ago not to come in the room. I guess she listened, which makes me your problem,” the man said as his eyes flashed yellow.

John cringed in pain as he was forcibly slid up the wall and onto the ceiling. The last thing he saw and heard was Sam crying. The figure vanished as Mary sprinted down the hall yelling “John?” When she reached the threshold of Sam’s door, she held her breath, looking around for any sign of trouble or her husband. “John?” She repeated more quietly this time. She tiptoed to Sam’s crib and scooped him up, hushing him and whispering reassurances.

Then, Mary felt a dampness on her hand. She gasped as she saw the droplet of blood. Looking up, Mary screamed out “John!” John Winchester was plastered against the ceiling, a large gash across his stomach. Mary watched in horror as her husband was lit on fire.

“Mom?” Dean’s voice caught her attention. Running to her eldest son, Mary placed Sam in his arms.

“Take Sammy outside, don’t look back. Now Dean, go!” Mary commanded, praying to God that this was all some crazy dream she was caught up in. As Dean hustled down the stairs, Mary gave Sam’s nursery one last hopeful glance, searching for any sign of John in the blaze. She gave up as the flames came dangerously close to the doorframe. Covering her mouth so as to not inhale the smoke, Mary sprinted out after her children. The second she stepped outside she yelled out, “Sam! Dean! Where are you?”

“Mommy!” Dean called back, coughing as he sat down on the sidewalk across the street, Sam still in his arms. As soon as she reached them, she huddle the two children close against her, rocking them back and forth, constantly pressing kisses to their heads. “Where’s Dad?” Dean asked. Mary bit her lip and just shushed Dean, pulling him even closer. Her long blonde hair fell in front of them like a shield.

They sat like that for God-knows how long until Mary heard the wail of fire truck sirens. It was all a blur after that. Policemen attempted to ask her questions but lost interest as more and more firemen tried to put out the inferno in their house. It took them an hour for the fire to finally be put out. After that, the police had resumed asking her questions. She had answered them as best as she could, but it wasn’t like she could tell them she had found her husband pinned to the ceiling and that he had spontaneously caught on fire. After practically half an hour of questioning, they told her she was free to go.

Now Mary found herself perched on the hood of John’s precious Impala, Dean next to her, his head in his hands, Sam was still curled in her arms, quieter than he had ever been. “C’mon Dean,” she said after a while. “Let’s go.” The three of them piled into the car and as the engine roared to life, Mary choked back a sob. When Dean asked where they were going, all she responded with was “away from here.”

They drove for hours. Sam was asleep for most of the time. Dean didn’t talk much, he would occasionally ask if Mary was okay. Other than that, the five hour car ride was silent. As she felt her eyes start to close from exhaustion, she began to look for an exit off the highway. When she caught sight of the sign for Sioux Falls, she mumbled that they’d figure something out and turned off the highway and onto the exit. The Impala thundered down the road for a few miles before the headlights lit up an empty parking lot. Mary pulled the car into the lot and put the car in park. After quickly checking on Sam and Dean, who were thankfully both still asleep, Mary closed her eyes and tried not to remember what had happened a few hours prior.

* * *

When Mary awoke the next morning, it took her a minute to get her bearings. In the light of day, she saw that she was in the parking lot of a convenience store that must've closed down several years earlier. She sighed before smoothing out her hair and nightgown before turning to look in the backseat. "Dean?" The little boy stirred but didn't say anything. "Dean," Mary repeated. "Wake up honey."

"Don't wanna," he mumbled.

"Sweetie, I need you to wake up." Dean slowly opened his eyes and stared back at her. "Is Sammy okay?" Dean turned his head to watch his baby brother squirm due to the sound of their conversation.

"Mmhm."

"Alright. Are you hungry?" Mary asked as she reached underneath her seat. Her hand closed around an envelope. She had put it there a few weeks back because something had seemed off. It was enough money to keep them sustained for a few days if there had been an occasion to leave suddenly. Something in the back of her mind had tried to warn her that something was wrong, but she hadn't been able to put her fingers on it. She had investigated around Lawrence and found nothing out of the ordinary. No traces of Sulfur, no mysterious disappearances, nothing. Still, as a precaution she had hidden the money in the Impala, just to be safe. 

"Yeah," Dean replied still somewhat sleepily. "Where are we?" He asked, staring out the window at the decaying convenience store. The 'closed' sign was hanging by a string and the glass of the door was broken. 

"Somewhere near Sioux Falls," she answered absent mindedly, instead focused on counting how much money they had.

"Where's that?"

"South Dakota." He seemed satisfied enough with this answer and went back to staring out the window. Mary put the envelope down and weighed their options; they could find food and maybe find a better place to stay or keep driving until the money ran out. She was just about ready to go with the latter when she heard the sound of another car's tires on the gravel of the parking lot.

"Who's that?" Dean piped up, now peering out the other window.

"I don't know, but I'll find out," Mary promised as she stepped out of the car. The other car was a pickup truck, and an old one at that. The paint was faded and the whole truck was in need of a washing. On the driver's side door in faded letters were the words 'Singer's Salvage.'

The driver stepped out of his truck but still remained close to the door, keeping his distance. "Car trouble?"

"Just stopped to rest," Mary responded curtly, now trying to remember what her father had taught her about hand to hand combat all those years ago. The man shook his head, his hat threatening to fall off as he did so. 

"Not a great spot to rest, the place hasn't been open in years. Local kids like to hang out around here and fool around," the man told her. 

"Don't have anywhere else to go," Mary heard herself saying. Dammit, she'd said too much, made them appear vulnerable. In all honesty they were incredibly vulnerable at that moment, but they couldn't appear that way. 

"We've all been there before," was all the man said in response. No one said anything for a few moments. "S'nice car ya got there." 

"It's my husband's." _Was,_ she corrected herself. Mary was about ready to hop in the car and drive away before something happened, but then she heard one of the back doors open. "Dean, get back in the car," she said through gritted teeth.

Dean didn't get back in the car, instead moving closer and taking his mother's hand. 

"Hey there," the man called to Dean. Dean didn't say anything. The three of them all stared at each other in silence, Dean still gripping his mother's hand tightly. "I didn't mean to scare ya. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. S'not often that you see a nice car liked that parked in the lot of a shut down convenience store." 

"We appreciate your concern."

"Yeah well, no problem." He wiped his hand on his jeans. "The name's Singer, Bobby Singer, by the way," he added. Bobby turned to get back in his truck. 

"Mary Winchester."

"Well, if ya need any help with the car before you head out to wherever it is that you're going, give me a holler." With that, Bobby got back in his old truck and pulled out of the lot. 

Mary visibly relaxed and leaned back against the car. 

"He's nice," Dean told her. Mary nodded and watched as the old pickup truck drove up the road. 


	2. The Kids are Mostly Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mary Winchester gains an ally and things get a little more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dividers used in this chapter, as well as ones used in future chapters are from a font called "Wings of Wind TFB." This font is available for dowload at dafont.com

The encounter with Bobby Singer had strangely managed to steady Mary slightly. She couldn't explain why. Maybe it was because he had seemed as wary of her as she of him. So, after his loud truck was out of sight, Mary kneeled down and hugged Dean. "Next time, stay in the car please, sweetie," she said as she kissed his forehead.

"Okay," Dean nodded, though he didn't look convinced that he would actually listen to her should a simmilar situation occur again. She stood up and smoothed out her nightgown and helped Dean into the backseat. The door shut with a sharp sound and Mary couldn't help but wince. As she slid into the driver's seat and placed her hands on the wheel, she frowned. They still had nowhere to go and Mary had no idea if they were being followed by whatever had destroyed their house and killed John. She had a strong feeling she knew what it was, like it was on the tip of her tongue. But try as she might, the answer just refused to come to her. She exhaled sharply before turning the car on and peeling out of the dilapadated convenience store parking lot. She didn't know where they were going, but if she was going to assess the danger of their current situation, she needed a home base. 

Mary drove down the main road for a few miles until she found the beat-up, neglected Sixth Street Motel. The manager looked genuinely surprised when Mary asked for a room. 

"How many nights?" The manager asked. A balding, paunchy man in his mid-fifties, Lary, as his nametag identified him, eyed Mary's nightgown like she was wearing a clownsuit. 

"Not sure yet, I can't imagine more than two or three days," Mary responded as politely as she could manage. Lary gave some noise of assent and handed over a dingy key.

"Room 2B," he grunted. She grabbed the key from him and huddled Sam a little closer to her chest. She and Dean wandered under the covered walkway along the row of roomdoors outside of the Manager's office. Mary counted at least twenty different doors and wondered how many were occupied. When they stumbled into the room, as disgusting as it was, Mary couldn't keep herself from dragging Dean to her and clutching him tightly. She sat all three of them down on the comforter that was caked with dust and God-knows what else. 

"We're safe," she murmured, but she couldn't tell if she said it more for herself or her children. Now, almost twelve hours since they had fled Lawrence, the full situation hit Mary like a ton of bricks. "Oh god," she stuttered and pulled them even closer.

"Mom?" Dean peered up at her with wide eyes that looked terrified, even if the rest of his four-year-old body refused to show it.

"Yes, love?"

"Can you tell Sammy and I a story? The one Dad always told me?" Mary noticed how Dean was already using past-tense in reference to John and a part of her wanted to tell him that she didn't feel like a story right now, but she bit her lip and eventually smiled slightly.

"It's been a while since I told a good story," she said lightly as Dean down moved back to lean against the creaky headboard of the motel bed. Dean reached his arms out and Mary stared at him for a long moment until she realized that he was offering to hold Sammy. She placed the baby in Dean's small embrace and moved herself so she was seated right next to him. She faltered, trying to remember the pieces of the stories that John always fabricated so well. "Do you mind if I tell you one of my favorites?" Dean smiled at her and shrugged his shoulders, which Mary took as acquiesence. 

"There once was a man. A brave, brave man, who, like many heroes, fought monsters. But this man didn't fight alone, no, he had his Angel who fought alongside him..."

 

After several tales of 'the Hunter and his Angel' as she remembered her Mom calling it, Dean and Sam had fallen asleep. As they snoozed quietly, Mary slipped out of the room with a small amount of cash in her hands, tired of the looks she was getting for wearing her night gown. She locked the door behind her, hoping that if Dean woke up while she was still gone, he'd be able to manage for a short while.

 

When Dean woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the motel door, he bolted right up and stared at the source of the noise. His mom wasn't there, _oh God_ ,  _Mom isn't here._

"Hello?" He called out hesitantly, making sure to stay as far away from the door as he could manage while still keeping near Sammy. To his surprise, the voice that answered him was familiar.

"Shit, it's a kid," he hear the man mumble.  _Bobby,_ he recognized.  

"Mr. Singer?" Dean moved closer to the door, wondering if his Mom would be angry at him for talking to the nice stranger they had met earlier that morning. 

"Kid?" Bobby asked incredulously. 

"Dean," he supplied. One hand tightened around the chain lock that was keeping the door bolted shut. 

"Dean," he heard Bobby repeat. "Well Dean, I need to talk to your Mom."

"She's not here," Dean called back through the door. He quickly glanced back at Sam and was relieved to see the six-month-old still resting on the old, red comforter. 

"Balls!" Bobby exclaimed. Dean stiffled a giggle. 'Balls' sounded like an awfully silly thing to say in frustration. "Dean," he said desperately. "I need you to let me in."

"Mom said not to open the door for strangers," Dean replied and stepped back from the door. His hand let go of the lock and he stumbled backwards. Then Dean heard another voice coming from down the hall.

"What are you doing , Mr. Singer?" Mary's stern voice demanded. 

"Bobby," he corrected. "And look, we don't got a helluva lot of time to explain before things go to hell in a hand basket, so I need you to trust me."

"Trust you? I barely know you!" Mary shouted back. Dean took that as his cue to scoop up Sam and move as far to the other end of the room as possible. Sam stirred in his arms and made a small noise but other than that kept quiet. 

"Look, I'm sure I'm going to come across as crazy, but," Bobby paused. Dean waited to hear what the man had to say, but instead heard his mom inhale sharply and say something about not talking within earshot of the door. The two voices faded as well as their footfalls. Dean just stared blankly at the wooden door and wondered what could be so big that his mom didn't want him to hear.

 

 

"You hunt?" Bobby stared at the blonde with surprised, but relieved eyes. Mary shifted uncomfortably and leaned back up against the tacky, peeling striped wallpaper. 

"Used to." She pursed her lips. "Before John and I were married. He didn't know, that's what got him killed," she finished sharply.

"So when you said that you had nowhere to go, it's because of some evil son of a bitch?" Bobby's eyebrows were raised. "Any signs of trouble beforehand?"

"It's been years since I hunted, I'm a little out of practice. But there weren't any huge warning signs." Mary neglected to mention the memories of yellow eyes that kept nudging at the back of her mind.

"Damn," Bobby muttered. Mary just stared back at him.

"So what have you been tracking that led you to our motel room?" She inquired after the silence had gotten awkward.

"Demon, by the looks of things." Mary nodded grimly. "I tracked it to this motel. Asked the manager and you're the only guests. Just came in today, he said, so I came by to investigate."

"What about the manager?"

"According to the people around here he hasn't been too strangely or out of the ordinary, but that don't mean much if you've got a crafty demon." Bobby shook his head. 

"I've got my kids with me, and while I'd love to be helpful Bobby, I can't," Mary sighed and gestured back towards the door to their room.

"I take it they don't know?" 

"As far as Dean knows, there are no monsters that go bump in the night or kills dads, and I'd like to keep it that way," Mary said gravely, her thin arms crossed. 

"That may be tough," Bobby's voice faltered as he turned towards the sound of footfalls down the hallway. "You smell that?"

"Sulfur," she confirmed. 

"How's your latin?"

"A little rusty," Mary gave a quick glance at the man. "But I think I can manage." The two of them stopped as Lary, the manager, came into view. "Hello," Mary greeted cautiously. Lary's boots thudden on the floor as he walked closer to the pair of them. " _Christo,"_ Mary intoned. Lary flinched. 

"My my my, that old Latin trick? Hah! Thought you hunters had forgotten about it," the demon teased. "Well, well, not too often I get to see a hunter that's as nice looking as you. Makes this a shame, really," he said as he appraised Mary. Mary fought back the urge to shiver and was now very glad that she had found clothes to replace her white nightgown. She pulled the jean jacket she was wearing more tightly around her. 'Lary' gave a sideways glance at Bobby. "You? Not so much."

"You're hurtin' my feelings," Bobby mocked as he slowly moved backwards, grabbing onto Mary's wrist and pulling her with him.

"Feelings can't get hurt if you're dead," the demon offered with a shrug.  Bobby and Mary continued to back up until there was no more room. They were caught between a wall and a demon. Mary bit her lip and wondered if Bobby had some sort of plan.

The demon moved even closer until...he stopped. 

"Idjit," Bobby laughed as he gestured up to the ceiling that covered the walkway of doors. Mary looked up to find a Devil's trap painted in black paint. 

"Really? Trapping me? How creative," the demon said sardonically. 

"It'll be plenty creative when you're back in Hell." Bobby turned to Mary. "Would you like to do the honors?" 

Mary smirked. " _ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,"__  she began. Lary let out a blood curdling scream. Mary continued to recite the exorcism. Each phrase of latin sent another wave of screams and convulsions through the demon. In a sudden erruption of black smoke and one final yell, it disappeared into the ground and back to Hell.

"Listen," Bobby began after the smoke had long since vanished. "Take my number, never know when you'll need another hunter."

"Thank you," she said genuinely. 

"Hope you get to wherever the hell it is you're going," he told her with a wave. Bobby took a few steps before turning around. "If you're ever in South Dakota again, I'd love to take a look at that car."

Mary smiled at this but said nothing more. She watched as Bobby Singer eventually got into his car and drove out of the parking lot. That was when Mary realized that she'd been holding her breath. Exhaling rather loudly, she felt the tension drop out of her shoulders. Moving quickly, she found the entrance marked '2B' and fumbled with they key until she heard the click of the deadbolt unlocking. The door opened, but only just. The chain was still in place. 

"Dean," she called, seeing him hugging Sam close to his chest on the bed. "Can you unlock the door for me sweetie?"

Dean stood silently and placed Sam gently down on the comforter. He unbolted the chain, moving aside to allow her to come in. "Was that screaming?" He asked finally.

"No sweetie," she told him with a fake smile, but her eyes were stern. Dean knew better than to press the matter.

"Where's Bobby?"

"He went home," Mary replied. For what felt like the hundreth time that day, she pulled her oldest son into a hug. With a pang, she noticed that he kept his arms firmly planted at his sides.

"He reminded me of Dad," Dean whimpered as Mary let go of him. This time, all she found herself able to do was stare at her four year old son and try desperately not to cry.

 

Zachariah's frown was the most prominent feature on his vessel's face at the moment. He had arrived in the parking lot of Sixth Street Motel only to find the demon gone. Residual traces of sulfur wafted up to his nose which he wrinkled in disgust. 

Another figure appeared next to him with the soft sound of wings fluttering. "Castiel," Zachariah regarded him without blinking. The lower-ranking Angel stood silently next to him, awaiting further orders. "Watch over the older Winchester boy," he said finally. "We have much to expect from him."

Castiel nodded and continued to stare blankly at the line of motel doors. When Zachariah didn't say anything further, Castiel took wing. When the parking lot was once again empty, Zachariah shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Mary Winchester, what are we going to do with you?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have divided the chapter a few extra times because the dividers look pretty. Sue me.
> 
> I'd like to thank anyone who's even bothered to read this, it means a lot to me. Any feedback would be much appreciated.


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